


Whitty's down bad

by The_Annoying_DAHG



Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Friday Night Funkin' Mods
Genre: Existential Angst, Gen, Just Add Kittens, Male Solo, Masturbation, Nervousness, Oh I forgot to mention GF's referred to as Maggie and BF is Mason in my headcanon, Orgasm, Pining, Public Masturbation, Whitty has a kitty, because tbh that'd probably kill him, but only a lil 'cause I wanted to stay SPICY, he's vibin in that alleyway, her name is TURTLE and she is a torbie, ish, post-nut clarity doesn't make sense here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Annoying_DAHG/pseuds/The_Annoying_DAHG
Summary: Whitty is dealing with an existential crisis. He decides to try and clear his mind.
Relationships: Whitty/Carol (Possibly One-Sided), Whitty/Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Whitty's down bad

**Author's Note:**

> art got deleted lol anyways enjoy this

_A speck in the universe._

Whitty trudged along the street, hands in pockets, stopping to slide into an alleyway.

_One of 8,000,000,000 different people._

His kitten, Turtle, mewled at him, and as he slid onto the ground, she kneaded his leg.

_Just six bucks' worth of bodily minerals. $6, Whitmore!_

He pulled out a pack of hotdogs he'd bought earlier. **"Here, baby girl,"** he said, unintentionally snarling as he bit back his temper at the latest retail shmuck he'd dealt with. He bit the hotdog into five pieces, taking them out of his mouth and feeding them to the torbie in his lap. **"We get paid tomorrow. I could get you some actual cat food, huh?"**  
His voice was thick and gravelly. Some even compared him to an amp. Kinda metal of him to "speak guitar", if he said so himself. He'd been going through an existential crisis lately, and little Turtle was the only thing keeping him going. At least his coworkers were nice to him.  
"Mraw?" Turtle trilled, nibbling his hand.  
**"Hey, sweet pea. Love you too."** Turtle purred into his hip, and he scratched her ear.

He woke up in the middle of the night to a dog rushing past him. He was too cold to fall back asleep, and even if he wanted to, his mind was positively _reeling_ with thoughts and ideas and songs on the radio that'd been stuck in his head since 2003... and a tent in his pants.  
That happened often enough that he'd learned to ignore it, but this particular time would not go away, not for half an hour, and as he was thinking about it...  
Man, he was down bad.

Not like he tried to be, but he wasn't ever able to find a time to solve that situation. People were always out walking in the street, and he was positively embarrassed to be seen. Some people were into that; Whitty was not. It was chilly tonight, though. Nobody was out as far as he could hear, and Turtle had already climbed into her box-bed and was asleep for the night.   
Maybe just... rub one out. Just to clear his mind. He wouldn't be able to sleep with all that mental racket. Nobody was gonna see him anyways.

He lay back against the wall of the alley, stroking himself through his khakis uncertainly. **"H-ah... haven't done this 'n a while,"** he mumbled to no one in particular.  
He checked the entrance to the alleyway nervously before shimmying out of his pants, wrestling them off his butt before doing the same to his underwear. His length sprang free in an embarrassingly eager way. He spat on his hand before taking it in his fist. It twitched. **"Hff..."**

Slowly, up and down, he started moving and _wow,_ he'd forgotten what it felt like to jack off. His fingers flexed on his jacket as he pounded faster. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, and he wiped it off with his sleeve.  
He thrust into his hand involuntarily, growling in the heat of the moment. The fuse on his head was snapping, like sparks were flying out of it.   
He unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders in an attempt to cool off. Soft moans escaped him, and he forced himself to shut up before some Philly gang came to investigate. That would be _humiliating._

He rubbed his thumb over the tip and hissed, biting the inside of his cheek as he did it again and again. **"Oh g--fffuuhhhhh..."**  
He sat up a little straighter, kicking off his shoes. **"Get it together, man. It's not like it's... Carol or anyone..."**

But maybe it was. Whitty had been eyeing the dark-skinned girl for longer than he'd like to admit, and with his ministrations, he conjured up compromising images of her in revealing outfits or poses, and--  
_Now you've done it, Whitmore,_ his conscience chastised him. _You've gone and sexualized your friend. What a simp._  
**"Not like I can help it,"** he said out loud, voice cracking as he hit an even faster rhythm. **"Not my fault she's cute."**  
_No, but it is your fault for jacking off to her._  
**"So wha--ahhh..."** he faltered, crossing his ankles in vain, trying not to make noise. **"So what if I am? Not like she'll ever know."**  
He dwelled on that thought for a moment. She would never know. He could do this whenever he wanted and she would never know.

He used his free hand to pinch his thigh, a strangled moan escaping him anyways as his climax hit him like a freight train. He kicked his shoe out of the way before it got in there--ew--and rode out his high in absolute bliss. **"Fffruhhhk--!!!"**

When he opened his eyes again, the mess from what he'd done was blatantly apparent in the thin alleyway. Four thick white puddles were surrounding him suspiciously, and embarrassment jumped on him as he looked around hurriedly for something to clean it up with. After sopping it up with an old towel he found, he felt clear-headed, almost like sobering up, for the first time in a year or so. For once, it was quiet as he rolled under his blanket.

Maybe he is a speck in the universe, but at least he knows it and owns it. He could think about that tomorrow. For now, he just needed to fall back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the specific cat Turtle is supposed to look like: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fb/4c/a9/fb4ca97886c2f123770d6d85c0dba62e.jpg  
> It's a mix of patterns known as the torbie, it's tabby stripes and tortoiseshell calico spots all thrown into one cat and it's never not beautiful  
> Also yes Whitty strikes me as very much a cat person and he would 1000% adopt a stray kitten


End file.
